


Five Fic

by peoriapeoria



Category: Slings & Arrows
Genre: F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-18
Updated: 2011-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen composes notes too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Fic

She had wanted him badly, madly, she'd almost scraped off Oliver's desk and took Geoffrey right in his office. Instead Ellen went home, accepted Sloan's proposal--

She looked at Geoffrey, sprawled in her bed. If she'd known, would she have decided differently? Seven years! Seven years. How was that even possible? Ellen believed Geoffrey, the proof was in the poking--

She fingered his hair. It was like when he'd left the stage, he'd just Stopped. Dropped-- "The dead don't fuck, make love, have sex." His preludes often depended on their playing, not their words when he self-provided. Just because the trap was Ophelia's grave--

 

\--------------

Ellen was spoiled. She knew that, she believed she deserved it, but she was aware she was spoiled. She'd fucked men half Geoffrey's age, his current age. Sloan...

No, that was wrong. Even if she compared Geoffrey-then to Sloan, she was different.

She missed re-revving, missed rematches, second-wind sex, call it what you like. Not that Geoffrey was a bad lover. No, he found his marks, perhaps better in bed for no distractions from the stage, and he remembered cues she'd forgotten.

He wasn't insatiable. She had loved his stormy declamations, hasty sex in ridiculous positions, endless courses and bringing down the curtain in bed. Now once asleep he stayed that way, not the whole night, no, but not a simple drowse a helping hand or mouth would summon him forth. Sleep.

Only Geoffrey. Well, Sloan too. Generally she didn't like men sleeping, she kicked them from bed before they took her for granted. She had missed Geoffrey, really. She'd missed the sex, not that she'd admit that, it was her one scruple, but even more she'd--

Geoffrey had presence, sprawled across the bed. Somehow he still left an Ellen-shaped spot, no matter how he consumed space. She could drape over him in infinite ways.

Ellen was spoiled, and she snuggled into Geoffrey.

\---------------

Men! Sometimes they were such babies. You'd think she'd slept with Henry, like she'd do that. Her brother-in-law was more likely. Right now Ellen couldn't see sleeping with Geoffrey. He'd flopped in the prop room, and his rumple was veering dangerously into hobo.

\--------------

"Oh, Gods, yes!"

Afterwards, Ellen marveled at the way Geoffrey covered her without crushing his weight down. She brushed his sides with fingertips. New York was a thrill, marred by Geoffrey's absence. Distance. She was the one not in New Burbage, the one absent.

She liked sex, liked fucking. Geoffrey. Those seven years. Weren't you supposed to have an analyst after one went mad? She both liked it and...

Who went seven years without sex? She supposed people did, but people didn't look like Geoffrey. Even now he cut a figure. Out of that sweater; it was like a chastity belt without the allure. Maybe that explained it, thing looked seven years old.

She couldn't go to him. Then. He couldn't come to her, she saw that now. They'd needed to stay in their own wings, until their next scene. Scenes were always better shared, though he had this way of generating his own light, somehow shadowing her without stepping into her light. His craft wouldn't allow that flaw. He argued with Oliver about eclipsing apprentices during their one line, complained if Oliver favored him over the play.

Ellen refused to think of Psyche and Cupid.

\---------------------------

She looked down, which was rather appalling as she was close against the evidence. Her gown and his robe kept the standing ovation private, away from even her own prying eyes. This, this was what they'd lost.

Ellen looked up, Geoffrey gazing up just after her. She wanted him, possibly even more than he wanted her. First, there was curtain call. He needed that, he'd needed this, to tread the boards again, even without the boards themselves.

"Yes." She pulled him out onto the stage he'd created, into the light.


End file.
